


A Sense Of Belonging

by Shawarmerei (livefromarkham)



Series: Avengers High School AU [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cutting, Depression, Dinner with the Rogers Family, Feelings, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Thor is from Norway, You Can't Convince Me The Odinsleep Is Nothing To Be Joked About, angsty angst, feelings everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livefromarkham/pseuds/Shawarmerei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha swears if she has to ride into the gates of hell to get Clint out of critical condition, she's going to do it. And she's going to beat the shit out of him when he gets back for pulling such a stunt. If it means he gets his boyfriend back, Loki is going to let her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense Of Belonging

In his mind, Loki was screaming for answers. He still didn’t know why Natasha had asked that he come to the hospital. He had no idea what was going on, why Clint wouldn’t answer his calls, why it was  _taking so goddamn long_ for Romanoff to get out of the ER and tell him what the hell was going on.

Sitting in the waiting room felt like it was killing him. It was an age and a half before Tasha came back out, her expression stony. She glanced over at him, frowning. He knew that look. She was hiding something, something big. He needed to know exactly what it was.

Standing a little quicker than he probably should have, Loki stumbled forward to the girl in front of him, half uncertain and half angry. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “You called me here and now you’re not even telling me why you wanted me around. I woke up at four thirty in the morning for this, Romanoff. This had better be a—“

“Laufeyson, you little shit,” she interrupted him, “shut up and let me talk.” Loki frowned at her, biting back a few scathing retorts. What she had to say was probably important. Natasha was not one to waste words.

“I called you here because there’s been a… I don’t know how to put it gingerly, but early this morning, I found Clint bleeding out in the bathroom. He tried to kill himself. They’re trying to keep him alive right now. That’s why I called you here. I figured you would care about your boyfriend.”

By the time Natasha finished, Loki’s eyes were wide, his hands shaking and his legs unsteady. He stared at her for a while, uncomprehending, before his eyes flitted to the door. “Don’t even think about it,” Natasha said, grabbing him by the wrist. “You’re not allowed in there, you’re not family. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Trust me.” His gaze moved back to the redhead for only a moment before turning back to the door. Using a trick he had only recently learned (from Clint, he remembered with some degree of horror), he broke free of Tasha’s grip and made a run for the door.

It was too short a distance for her to overcome her surprise and catch up to him before he reached his goal. He ran headlong into the door, which refused to budge. There were no handles. It didn’t push open. He raised a fist to pound on the cold steel, but Natasha caught him before he could start. “Loki, stop it. It’s going to be okay.”

“How can you say that when your best friend just tried to kill himself?” he asked, his vision blurring. “Do you care about him at all?”

Normally Natasha would have taken the question as an invitation to beat the hell out of the one asking it, but as it was an incredibly (and justifiably) upset Loki, she held back and put her hands on his shoulders. “You know that I do. I swear if I have to ride into the gates of hell to get him back, I’m going to do it. And I’m going to beat the shit out of him when he gets back for pulling such a stunt.”

Loki nodded briefly, then let himself slide down to the floor. “Is anyone else coming in?”

“Do you really think it’s at all reasonable to expect Tony Stark to get up at five in the morning, regardless of the situation? His damn house could be on fire and he’d sleep through it. No, they’re not,” she finished, realizing that it might not be the best time for jokes considering Loki’s current mental state.

He made a strangled noise that sounded like “okay,” then curled up in a ball on the floor and started sobbing, far louder than anyone should ever have to do at 5:06 am. Natasha, unsure of how to handle the situation, sat down beside him and let him put his head on her lap, stroking his hair and letting Loki cry enough for the both of them.

At 8:37 he was still the only one in the waiting room, despite having frantically texted everyone he had in his phone that was able to answer (that is to say, Thor, with an urgent request to contact the rest of his friends). He probably hadn’t even woken up yet. It was a Saturday morning. No one wanted to wake up early on a Saturday morning.

Tasha exited again to find him pacing frantically and staring at the sterile patterns on the floor. She could tell from his body language that he was anxious and terrified, but she couldn’t exactly blame him. She was every bit as scared as he was, despite the news she’d just gotten.

“He’s going to live,” she murmured, drawing his attention. “He’s going to be okay.”

Tears started to roll down the younger boy’s cheeks again. She took a few steps toward him, her arms open, but he shrunk back. “Come on, Loki,” she said with a note of exasperation. “You know we both need this.” His shoulders sagged as he nodded and walked back over to her. Taking a deep breath—she didn’t do this lightly, or often—Natasha embraced Loki and squeezed like she had no intention to ever let him go. He didn’t really reciprocate, just let his arms hang and cried into her shoulder. Tasha wasn’t entirely sure what to do. She had done this enough with Clint, why was it so difficult with his boyfriend?

“It’s okay, he’s going to be okay,” she repeated softly, running a hand through his hair. His hands finally found their way up to her baggy tee shirt, clinging to the back of it and drawing him in closer.

“This is my fault,” he sobbed. “Everyone that gets close to me tries to kill themselves. I’m just so terrible that no one can stand me and—“

“No,” she interrupted, “he’s tried this before. He’s been battling depression for longer than he’s known you.”

The sorrow in Loki’s eyes quickly turned to hate, burning with a passion he didn’t know he had in him. He pushed away from Natasha, a growl already forming in his throat. “You mean you knew all along that he might do something like this, and you never did anything about it? You never told anyone? Why would you keep such a secret from us? That’s not fair to us and it’s not fair to him, that he has to suffer in silence!”

“It’s his own business and he’d have told you if he had wanted you to know,” she retorted. “This is his problem and if he doesn’t want other people involved that’s his decision.”

“But you could have kept a better eye on him! You could have prevented this!” Loki hissed, heading toward the door. “I feel no obligation to stay here at your behest any longer. I am going home and I am going to bed, and I will speak with Clint when he is released.”

“Loki, stop.” Tasha frowned, wiping her eyes absently. “You know he’s going to want to see you when he wakes up. And you know what? You’re right. I should have kept a better eye on him. But I didn’t, and I’m sorry, and there’s nothing we can do about it now except support him. Now come back here. Please.” There was weakness in her voice that she had never dared to show before, and it caught him completely off guard. Natasha Romanoff did not show emotion. She would sooner put a knife in your back than let you see her shed a tear. Or so the rumors went.

But Clint was hurting, and she had done her best to help him and had failed anyway. Loki could sympathize with that.

HIs Converse squeaked across the tile as he walked back over to her and put his arms around her, and this time it was her turn to sob into his shoulder and cling to his sweatshirt and play with his hair absently while she rambled about how she’d dealt with the attempts in the past, how she thought he was getting better, how  _happy_ he had seemed recently and how he must have just gotten better at hiding everything from her and how if she hadn’t had to take a piss in the middle of the night she might have lost him and that kind of thing should never be left to chance.

In return, Loki comforted her, told her that this sort of thing wasn’t her fault and that she was doing the best that she could given the circumstances. That it depended a lot on the person in question and that it was good that she had found him when she did, because things could have been a lot worse, and he informed her that things much worse had happened with people who decided to cut their wrists open in bathrooms before.

At 8:58 Natasha went back behind the door, and at 9:00 she came out and told Loki that he was finally allowed inside.

At 9:17 am Bruce arrived, and Natasha decided that she had spent enough time looking at Clint lying unconscious in a hospital bed with his arms bandaged all to hell and went out to meet him. Loki, on the other hand, was just getting started.

For a long period of time, he stared at the heart monitor and cried silently, not wanting to wake Clint up prematurely lest he be yelled at by the nurses. Eventually, the fact that he’d only gotten two hours of rest caught up with him, and the steady beeping of the computer put him to sleep. The nurses didn’t move him, and Bruce was courteous enough to not make a sound when he spent his time in the room.

At 9:46 Clint woke up of his own accord, looking over to the chair beside him to find his boyfriend, asleep and obviously upset. His cheeks were still red from crying, and he looked like he’d been up all night. The eighteen-year-old sighed, and his distinctive exhale was enough to wake Loki.

After he regained his bearings on his surroundings, he stood up and hovered over Clint’s bed, staring down at him. “Hey, Loki. Are you okay?” Clint asked, even though he already knew the answer. The response he got, however, was far from what he expected.

“No, of  _course_ I’m not okay, Clint. Consider where we are for a moment. We’re in a hospital. You’re in a hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of monitors. It’s almost ten am on a Saturday and normally right now you would be calling me asking if I want to go out for lunch. Instead, five hours ago I got a call from Natasha telling me to come to the emergency room, and I find out later that you tried to kill yourself!” The end of his sentence was shrill, his entire body bristling with tension and anger. “Did it even begin to occur to you how many people care about you? Did you even think of anyone other than yourself? Did it not occur to you how much it would hurt us all to lose you?”

“Honestly, Loki, no. It didn’t.” He frowned at his boyfriend, then turned his gaze back down at himself and absently scratched the back of his hand. “Nothing occurred to me except how much of a waste of space I was. I knew that you loved me but I couldn’t understand why. I thought that you and everyone else would be better off without me. That’s kind of how depression works.”

“Don’t lecture me on how depression works,” Loki spat. “I know perfectly well what having depression is like. But I have the common sense to realize that people, or at least Thor, would be absolutely devastated if I were gone. Someone would blame themselves even though they weren’t at fault. I would cause more problems than I do by existing through my death. Believe me, I know what it’s like to feel like you shouldn’t exist, but it’s one thing to think that and it’s an entirely different one to act on it!”

“I wasn’t thinking and I’m sorry. I really do care about you, okay? I care about everyone in this group, and I’m sorry that I hurt you guys by doing this. What else do you want me to say?”

“I want you to…” Loki paused for a moment, then drew in a shaky breath as he leaned toward Clint. “I want you to tell me that you love me and promise you’ll never do something like this again.” The tears were coming again, he could feel them.

“I don’t know if I can promise that.”

They were moving faster now, running down his cheeks and starting to drip on Clint’s chest. “I can’t deal with this again. I can’t lose someone else like this. You have to promise.”

“Woah, hold on there for a second. Again? Someone else? I don’t remember you mentioning anyone committing suicide recently.”

With that final push, Loki gave up. He fell onto Clint awkwardly, then rolled over so that he was more comfortable, bawling the entire time. He had wanted so badly just to reprimand his boyfriend and leave, but he couldn’t stand keeping it in him any longer. As far as he was aware, the only people that knew were himself and Odin, and the latter was not someone to share one’s sorrows with, as he had no sorrow to share.

“My mother,” he started, gripping the material of Clint’s hospital gown a little tighter than was probably necessary, “mine and Thor’s, she was taking care of me after my dad left me. I don’t really know what happened, if she was just depressed or the stress got to her or what it really was, but one morning when I was seven I woke up and I found her dead in the bathroom.” His sobbing grew louder, his head falling onto Clint’s chest as he closed his stinging eyes. “She cut herself open, just like you tried to. But there was nothing I could do. There was so much blood, Clint. So much.” 

For a while, he had nothing more to say, seeming content to cry into his boyfriend’s chest. Clint let one of his hands rest on Loki’s head, the other near the small of his back. They stayed in near-silence, the only sounds being the beeping of the heart monitor and Loki’s tears, until a nurse entered asking to take Clint’s vitals. She said nothing about the situation, and managed to do her job with all haste and left without comment. Loki, who had been forced to exit the bed, sighed.

“I’m sorry. I probably just made you feel guilty.”

“A little, but it’s better that way.” He smiled. “I never meant to hurt you, especially not this badly. I don’t know if I can promise that I won’t do it again, but… I’ll try, because I love you.” A shrug. “That’s about as good as I can make it.”

“That’s alright.” Loki managed a weak smile in return. “You’re alive. That’s what matters to me right now, and I’d like to keep it that way. Now I’m sure the others want to talk to you, they have to have arrived by now.”

Sure enough, at 10:32 the group had expanded significantly to also include Steve and Thor in addition to Bruce. Everyone took turns speaking with Clint, making sure he was alright, asking what had prompted it, if there was anything they could do. While the circumstances were unfortunate, it occurred to the archer that he had never really felt so loved and cared for as he did on that day, despite the events leading up to it. He had a lot of friends, and he still wasn’t entirely sure how they’d all come together in the way that they did, but he was glad things had turned out the way they had. To be honest, it made him feel a little more safe, to know that everyone was concerned about his well-being and that now they were, at least for a while, going to be very certain that he was feeling well.

He liked that idea, even if he didn’t necessarily like the attention. Anything that would help bring everyone closer together was a good idea by him.

At 12:24 pm Tony Stark entered the waiting room with an armload of Chinese takeout.

“I took the initiative to get us some lunch,” was his excuse. “Since I was going to be late anyway.”

“The hospitals serve food, Tony,” Natasha informed him curtly.

“Haven’t we already determined that Clint is going through a lot of unnecessary suffering simply by the principle of him being here in the first place? We don’t want him to suffer  _more._ ”

After agreeing that yes, Tony had a point, the group took their respective orders from his arms (Loki was somewhat in awe that Stark could remember what everyone ate, including him despite his still unofficial status as a member of the group) and settled down near the door. 

There was soon some rule-bending and name-dropping (“Do you know who I am? I’m Tony Stark,”) but regardless it got everyone inside to see Clint, Chinese food and all. “You okay, Legolas?” Tony asked once everyone had crowded inside the room and shut the door. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here faster. Dad took the working car and he’s practically dissected the other two.”

“You don’t have to make excuses,” Clint replied with a quizzical look. “I didn’t expect you to be here until three in the afternoon.” At Tony’s wince, however, he continued. “But I appreciate that you’re here this early, and it means even more to me if you really were trying to leave at the same time as everyone else. I really appreciate all of you being here and caring about me. I should be able to be released tomorrow afternoon, or at least that’s what they’ve been saying.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s taking them forever to figure out what to do considering Tasha’s parents aren’t around much from what I’ve told them, and I swear I’ve answered the same questions three goddamn times. I think they’re setting me up with a therapist or some shit. I don’t know. Honestly, I feel fine.”

“Obviously you didn’t this morning, though,” Natasha retorted. “You could have woken me up. You could have talked to me.”

“I felt like I was a burden and I didn’t want to bother you. Or anyone, really.” He shrugged.

“You realize, Clint,” Steve butted in, “that at any given hour of the day, at least one of us is awake? Tony stays up until three in the morning and that’s about when I wake up. I won’t mind being woken a few minutes earlier than usual and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind staying up a little later.”

“And our home is always open to anyone who may need aid,” Thor said, grabbing Loki’s shoulder and pulling him close. “I have had experience with talking to people when they feel like they have no worth. I enjoy helping those close to me, and any of you may come in if you deem it necessary.” Loki knew that Thor was talking about the countless nights he’d wandered into his brother’s room crying, but he had never thought that Thor  _liked_ helping him, rather than just putting up with it. He clung to Thor’s side a little tighter in response, and his brother smiled.

Bruce, who hadn’t said a word since they’d entered, finally cleared his throat. “I’m here for you too. I mean, I’m on medication for it now, but I used to have some… issues, and I was hospitalized for them, so if you need help with the nurses or really anything, I’ll be around.”

“And you had better talk to me if there’s something wrong,” Natasha cut in. “We fucking  _live_ together, Clint. If you’re not feeling right I would rather you wake me up at four in the goddamn morning and talk to me than have me discover you bleeding out in a bathroom at four in the goddamn morning. And to be honest, I probably should have told these guys sooner that this was a problem so that they would’ve had some sort of warning, but regardless we’re all here for you now whether you think you deserve it or not.”

Clint smiled, finally having a real sense of belonging, and for some of the Avengers, it was the first time they had ever seen him cry.

At 6:04 pm the next day, after a long session of trials, tribulations, and paperwork, Clint was finally released from the hospital.

“I’ve been set up with a therapist and they had me write down coping techniques,” he said from the back of the van. “I requested that I not be put on medication, and they were skeptical about it but whatever. I think as long as I have you guys around I’ll be fine. My support network was a lot bigger than I thought at first. And I’m posting a list of phone numbers in the bathroom next to the phone so that I can call someone if things get bad.”

“If it works for you, it works for us, Clint,” Steve replied with a smile, looking at him from the second row. “We just don’t want you to feel alone, because you aren’t. None of us could bear to lose you.” A general noise of assent filled the van as Loki, seated to Clint’s left, put his hand on his boyfriend’s leg as a show of his similar feelings. Natasha was holding his right hand, and no one would stop looking at him. Even Bruce, who had requested shotgun in order to be slightly away from the rest of the group (he was a little claustrophobic, much to Tony’s dismay), was still glancing back at him frequently in the rearview mirror. “Guys,” he voiced, “I don’t really need all this attention. You can talk amongst yourselves, you know.”

“So, what, we’re not allowed to like talking to you?” Tony asked, turned all the way around in his seat and completely neglecting Steve’s mother’s repeated request for him to turn around and buckle up. “I like talking to you whether you like it or not, Katniss.”

A sudden left hook to Tony’s cheek sent him reeling back, hitting his head on the back of Bruce’s seat as well as Thor’s knees. “I told you to buckle up!” Mrs. Rogers exclaimed, a light smile touching her lips. As the rest of the car burst into laughter at Tony’s expense, he climbed back into the seat and turned around, grumbling as the seatbelt clicked into place.

“Now, I don’t want any of this in my house, alright?” Sarah said once the laughter had died down. “No roughhousing, no mean-spirited insults, and try to cut back on the teasing. I’d like to have a nice group dinner and celebrate everyone’s company.” Steve’s parents were a little too nice, at least compared to the others in the group, and were certainly the only ones that were around regularly. Maybe it was why Steve had turned out to be the “nice” one in the group, and the most social—not to say that no one else could be kind, but Bruce was probably second if it were rated and his mother was also very caring, despite her frequent absence due to work. It had never really occurred to Clint before how shitty most of the parents of the Avengers were, but now that he realized it, he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. He also realized that “celebrate everyone’s company” here meant “celebrate the fact that Clint isn’t dead,” but he didn’t have much time to contemplate that before they pulled up in the driveway.

The Rogers home was at the center of the “Avengers quality of homes” scale, with Tony, Thor, and Loki on one end in their large and well-decorated homes; and Clint, Bruce, and Natasha on the other in their apartments. Steve lived in a two-story house that was not particularly large, but served its purpose well and fit three people comfortably. It may have been quaint, but it had something that none of the other houses had amongst the group: it felt homey and warm. Steve’s house was usually the designated area of meeting, since everyone liked it so much, despite both Thor and Tony having bedrooms alone big enough to house everyone with plenty of room to spare. Even Loki felt at home there: where he was used to not being liked even amongst the Avengers, Steve’s parents were kind to him and treated him like one of the family.

After crowding around the dining table and pulling up some extra seats, everyone sat down and waited for the food to be served. Steve’s family was unique in another way in that they were the only ones to pray before their meals, and they respected that the others in the group did not. While the Rogers trio sat quietly with their heads down and hands clasped together, the others in the group waited awkwardly for them to finish and stared at their empty plates with empty stomachs. Despite the inconvenience, Steve’s dad was notoriously good at cooking and everyone was looking forward to the meal—everyone except Loki, that was, as he had never stayed long enough to eat there before.

When the prayer was finally finished, everything was sent around in a circle for servings and everyone piled their plates full except Loki. Steve’s parents looked rather quizzical about this, asking if he was feeling alright and if he was hungry or why he wasn’t eating much. He replied that he was fine, that he just wasn’t incredibly hungry right now and might take more later. Clint knew he was lying and gave him a strange glance despite his mouth being completely full and looking a little ridiculous, but said nothing.

After Loki did finally take a bite of the food, he was eating faster than anyone at the table (including his brother) and took thirds.

At 11:46 pm on Tuesday night, a mere three days from his hospitalization, Clint was lying in the bathroom again, his head against the bathtub and a shaky hand reaching for a razor. He wasn’t really sure why he was here, only that he had lost whatever worth he’d gained in his own mind since Saturday.

He wasn’t brave like Steve, funny like Tony, intelligent like Bruce, kind like Thor, strong like Natasha, or sweet like Loki. All he had going for him was archery, and what good was that in the long run? How was he ever going to be anything in the “real world” if all he could do was use a weapon?

For a moment, he glanced up, and that was all he needed. His vision fixed on the list of numbers, a long list of people that cared about him. People that would talk to him if he needed them to. And he needed to talk more than anything right now. But he’d never really liked the phone, and he didn’t want to alert Natasha. She was a great best friend, but she was not well-adapted to dealing with emotions. He needed support now more than anything.

He was sure that Loki would appreciate a late-night visit much more than he would appreciate another hospital visit, besides.

At 12:11 am Clint arrived at the sprawling near-manor. A few lights were on, meaning that someone was awake, but he wasn’t sure who it was. He still wasn’t acquainted with the layout of the monstrous house.

Crossing his fingers and hoping that Odin either wasn’t home or wouldn’t wake as a cause of his actions, Clint winced and rung the doorbell.

There was a loud noise from the area of the house that had the lights on, and he could hear someone trampling down the stairs. It was Thor, then. That was fine too. He could talk to Loki later.

The blonde opened the door, panting a little and grinning. “Barton! What brings you to our household?” He noticed Clint’s tearstained cheeks and somber expression, letting his smile fade a little. “Is everything alright?”

“I need to talk,” he replied quietly. “I hope I didn’t wake up your dad.”

“No, he is a very deep sleeper,” Thor said with a chuckle. “Else Loki and I would not be able to stay up so late. Come in, come in. Do you need to speak with my brother?”

“It doesn’t matter, I just need to talk.” Clint shook his head and walked inside. The house was still gorgeous, but then again, he had never expected less for the house of a CEO. Thor lead him to the living room and had him sit down in a chair adjacent to the couch that he knew Thor had practically claimed as his own. “Is there anything you would like to drink? Tea, coffee, soda?” He shrugged. “Water would be nice.”

“Very well. I will return shortly.” He smiled at Clint, then ventured off to the kitchen.

While he was gone, the archer thought about whether he had made the right decision. What if Thor couldn’t help him? Worse yet, what if Loki couldn’t either? Was he going to go through all of his friends just to find out that none of them knew how to handle him when he was feeling useless? He made a mental note to go to Bruce next if this failed, as he seemed the most likely to understand a lack of self-worth, and if that didn’t work… well, he didn’t want to think about that.

Thor returned with some sense of haste, handing Clint his water and opening a soda for himself. “Now what is it that you would like to talk about?” He appreciated that Thor hadn’t brought up what time it was, or that he hadn’t called. Maybe this was the right decision after all.

“I… I came close to hurting myself again,” he admitted. Thor blinked at him, folding his hands in front of him and bringing them to his mouth. “And what is it that is bothering you, that drove you to this? Is it simply a general sadness, or do you have some reasoning for it? I will do my best to help regardless.”

“I feel like I’m worthless,” Clint said with a sigh, sinking into the chair and hoping it would swallow him. “You guys all have such great talents and are great people to hang out with, and I’m… not. I’m not nice, or intelligent, and I’m—“

“Stop, please,” Thor said, putting his hand on Clint’s. “You have talents. I have never seen anyone greater with a bow than you.”

“But what good is that going to do me when we’re out of school? I’m not going to be in the Olympics, I couldn’t stand the pressure and the trainers. I can’t teach people how to shoot worth a damn, and there’s nothing else that pays. And that’s all I’ve got. That’s my worth, right there, and I can’t do anything with it. I’m basically worthless.”

Thor shook his head. “Clinton, when I arrived here in America at age thirteen, I was afraid. I thought that no one would ever befriend me because I was difficult to comprehend and my English was subpar. But you were one of the first people to welcome me here. You made me feel like I belonged here, and that has helped me more than you will ever see.” He smiled, squeezing the smaller teen’s hand. “I would have never liked it here had you not been so kind to me. I think I might have been a bit more like my brother. I would have been made fun of for my accent, and even now I find myself a bit hard to understand. It is intimidating to those that are not used to me.”

“I feel like your muscle might also contribute to that,” Clint added.

“Yes, but my language does not help. A loud player of hockey who is difficult to understand? Many would prefer not to socialize with me.” He shook his head. “Nevertheless, this is about you, not me. I would just like for you to know that you have helped me and that I always value your companionship. I think that you have much more worth as a friend and as a being than perhaps anyone else will ever see, and what you have done for my brother has made him so happy that there is no way that I can ever repay you.”

“He seemed pretty pissed on Saturday,” Clint replied.

“He did not want to lose you. None of us did,” Thor said. “You are one of my best friends. You are loyal, kind, and generous to those whom you care about. You are intelligent in ways that none of us can compare to, and you never seem to let anything bother you. I care deeply about you, Clinton, and your absence would affect me almost as badly as it would affect Loki.” He stood, gesturing for Clint to do the same. When he did, he found himself on the receiving end of a bear hug, one that lifted him off his feet and, despite the fact that he felt like his ribcage could crack at any moment, he felt like he belonged.

“Thanks, Thor,” he said with what breath he could get, “I appreciate it.”

Letting him down, Thor let go of him with a smile. “Do you feel better, or should I call my brother down?”

“I do feel better,” Clint replied, “but I’d like to talk to Loki as well.”

“Would you prefer I return to my bedroom?”

After thinking about it for a moment, he responded, “No. I liked what you had to say, and I think there’s some good input you could provide. I’d like to talk to both of you, together, and see how well it goes.”

“Alright. I will go get him,” Thor said, patting Clint on the shoulder. “I hope that we can help you.”

In truth, Clint was already feeling much better. He just didn’t want to go home yet.


End file.
